


Kiss Me, Babe (It's Christmas Time)

by wibblywobblyfandom



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fluff, I Tried, M/M, Mistletoe, Swearing, im so sorry, its really late but o h well, this is just a happy christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblyfandom/pseuds/wibblywobblyfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to what you might think, Murphy didn’t hate Christmas. It stung a little, yeah, to see all the happy families rushing around shopping centres and parks holding hands and laughing when his own happy family was six feet under the ground, but he wasn’t that bitter. It wasn’t their fault. Besides, he had his weird-ass group of loser friends and their annual Christmas leftover feast, so it wasn’t like he was totally alone. All he had to do was watch shitty Christmas movies until he could turn up at the Blakes’ place at 6:30, and then he was all set. </p><p>a.k.a a rEALLY late murphamy christmas fic complete with ugly sweaters, mistletoe kisses, snow, and michael bublé.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me, Babe (It's Christmas Time)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song of the same name by owl city, which is pretty much what this fic was based around. whoops.

Contrary to what you might think, Murphy didn’t hate Christmas. It stung a little, yeah, to see all the happy families rushing around shopping centres and parks holding hands and laughing when his own happy family was six feet under the ground, but he wasn’t _that_ bitter. It wasn’t their fault. Besides, he had his weird-ass group of loser friends and their annual Christmas leftover feast, so it wasn’t like he was totally alone. All he had to do was watch shitty Christmas movies until he could turn up at the Blakes’ place at 6:30, and then he was all set. Other people brought food from their respective family lunches, he only had to buy one present because Secret Santa was a thing, and Bellamy and Clarke’s squabbling could be relied on to keep him entertained until they all got unbelievably drunk on Jasper and Montys “Special Christmas Brew” and passed out around the house. So long as he was able to trample the massive crush he’d had on Bellamy for upwards of a year and a half now into little more than a flutter in his stomach whenever Bellamy’s eyes met his, Murphy would be fine. Probably.

He’d already marathonned the Muppet Christmas Movie, the Nightmare before Christmas and three different versions of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (the one with Whoopi Goldberg remained his favourite), so Murphy knew it was probably time to get up from the indent he’d made in the couch and haul ass to Blake House if he didn’t want to be late. Octavia took punctuality _very_ seriously, and had taken to demonstrating the moves she taught her self-defense students on whatever dumbass arrived at an unsatisfactory time. Poor Jasper had almost shat himself when she’d mentioned something called the “two-point murder”, and there was no way Murphy was gonna put himself in the way of Octavia and her legs of steel any time soon. He stumbled over the nest of blankets he’d made around the couch and almost fell over trying to shove his feet into his shoes- so he wasn’t the most coordinated person after being a literal couch potato for several hours, sue him- and managed to find, lose and find again his car keys before craning his neck to look at the old clock on the wall. _Shit_. It was 6:25. He had 5 minutes to get to the Blakes’. He was a fucking _dead man._

By the time he pulled up in front of the tiny two-story flat it was 6:40, and all he could do was pray to whatever deities were out there that the festivities had put Octavia in a merciful mood. Murphy trudged across the frosty ground, knocked his fist against Bellamy and Octavia’s door, and tried to prepare himself for the worst. What he didn’t expect, however, was for the door to swing open to reveal a grinning Bellamy Blake, Octavia clinging to his neck with one arm and holding a sloshing mug of eggnog with the other. Murphy’s heart clenched a little (okay, a lot) at the sight of the eldest Blake- what with Bellamy forced to chaperone a week-long school camp for his high school history students, and Murphy being busy with work when the group caught up, it had been almost three weeks since they’d seen each other (not that Murphy was counting).

“Murphy! Murphy, you have to see this!” Octavia laughed, clearly a little tipsy, reaching up to press something on the rim of the santa hat sitting haphazardly on Bellamy’s curls. Suddenly, _Jingle Bell Rock_ started to play, and the floppy part of the hat with the pom-pom at the end began to jerk up and down in time with the beat. Octavia started laughing even harder, and Murphy joined in when Bellamy schooled his grin into a stoic grumpy scowl. He tried very hard to avoid looking at Bellamy’s lips, but when he noticed that the edge of Bellamy’s mouth was twitching up in an effort to hide his smile- well, he was gone. At least he could say he’d tried.

The hat’s flailing shook it side to side, getting closer and closer to the edge of Bellamy’s head with each beat, and suddenly Murphy realised what was inevitable. He reached out his arms in an effort to catch the fuzzy red monstrosity as it tumbled from Bellamy’s head, but it was too late. Octavia let out a yell as the falling hat knocked her mug out of her hand and the contents splashed across Murphy’s front, soaking both his sweater and the shirt he had underneath.

“Shit, Murphy! I am so sorry!” Octavia cried out as soon as the warm drink hit him. He could feel it dripping down his stomach, and let out a little shiver when it ran into his bellybutton. Gross.

“Nah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll deal, I can change when I get home,” he sighed. He really didn’t want to sit in a sticky eggnog-y sweater for the rest of the night, but unfortunately societal conventions meant that he had to be nice and shit instead of whining. Murphy fucking hated societal conventions.

“Well, I mean, if you insist. You were late,” she replied primly, turning up her nose.

“Octavia! That is _not_ how I raised you! Murphy needs clean clothes, he can’t stay in those wet ones,” Bellamy protested, and Murphy was reminded just why his little crush had developed into full-blown pining. Fuck Bellamy Blake and his flawless manners (not literally). (okay, maybe slightly literally.)

“What do you want me to do? None of my clothes are gonna fit him! You think he wants to wear a fuzzy crop top?” came the indignant reply. Octavia was not one for losing arguments.

“Fine, I’ll get him the clothes, you go check on Monty and Jasper. I’m worried that Raven’ll try to convince them to break apart our toaster and see if they can make the lights on it flash, and I don’t want our kitchen to explode. Murphy, follow me,” Bellamy said, turning to walk away. “Assuming you wouldn’t rather stay in that sweater?”

“Right, yep, coming.” Murphy replied, and followed Bellamy as he walked toward the bedrooms. Shit, he was going to Bellamy’s bedroom.

“Sorry about Octavia. I’m honestly not entirely sure she didn’t purposely aim it on you just to punish your lateness.”

“Eh, I probably deserved it. Sorry for being late, I guess,” Murphy shrugged as they arrived at Bellamy’s door. As in, the door to his bedroom. Shit, he was _outside_ Bellamy’s _bedroom_.

 _Okay, shut up, it’s not like that and you know it,_ he told himself. Those thoughts were dangerous and he knew it, but still that voice in the back of his mind insisted on saying _yeah, but what if it was?_

Bellamy disappeared into the room for a second, leaving Murphy to stand awkwardly at the threshold, before he heard a loud “Ah!” and Bellamy appeared again at the door, grinning mischievously and holding out a woolly… something.

“For you,” he said, as Murphy took the bundle and slowly unfolded it, then snorted in amusement. It was an enormous blue sweater with a snowman on it, and the words “Fuckwad the Snowman” stitched in cursive across the top. “O gave it to me last year but it was too small. Figured it’d fit you and your stick arms.”

Murphy chuckled as he began to peel off the eggnog-y mess he was currently wearing, before realising that he was, in fact, about to strip in front of Bellamy. The man in question seemed to think of this at the exact same time he did, as they both started talking at once.

“Uh, do you-“

“Sorry, could y-“

“Yeah, you want me to just-“

“You don’t have to it-“

“No, no, I will, don’t worry, it’s cool.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Yeah.”

“Yup.”

Murphy took a deep breath as he tried to get rid of the funny feeling in his stomach. It was fine, Bellamy had turned around, this didn’t have to be awkward. It was fine. But then again, he couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve happened if Bellamy hadn’t turned around, or maybe if he was shirtless in an entirely different situation. He put the clean sweater on as fast as he could, giving Bellamy the okay to turn back around just as he’d pulled it down over his stomach- and realising a second too late that it had twisted up against his side and was still exposing part of his torso. Murphy decided that he had imagined Bellamy’s lingering gaze on his skin as he quickly yanked down the hem and declared, somewhat awkwardly, that it was “Party time!”

Bellamy gave a gruff “Yep” and they headed back down the stairs and to the party, stopping to throw Murphy’s dirty sweater in the wash on the way. The awkward atmosphere diffused somewhat during the short trip downstairs, and were almost at the party when they heard Octavia let out a frantic yell.

“Stop! Stop walking! Oh my god, I can’t believe this. This is _too fucking good_ ,” she said gleefully, clapping her hands together. They were just about to enter the kitchen, Murphy at Bellamy’s side, but at Octavia’s words they froze. “Look up,” she whispered through her shit-eating grin, and Murphy’s heart dropped to his stomach.

They were under the mistletoe.

“You have to kiss!” Jasper called from his spot on the opposite end of the room from the toaster. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Sometimes, Murphy really hated Jasper.

He turned to face Bellamy, whose eyes dropped from the mistletoe above them to Murphy’s face. His tan skin was golden in the glowing firelight, and the freckles that dotted across his cheeks and forehead and the bridge of his nose looked like tiny flecks of chocolate that Murphy sorta wanted to lick off (but that would’ve been very gross and incredibly creepy, so he squashed the urge deep, deep inside his belly. Not today, ruined friendship, not today).

“This doesn’t have to be weird, right? Just a quick peck and then we can go,” Bellamy muttered, and Murphy felt something in his chest die. Of course Bellamy would just want to do this and go. He hadn’t been harbouring feelings for the person he was stuck under the mistletoe with for upwards of a year.

“Right, yep. Just a peck. No weirdness,” Murphy said, shaking out his nerves, and leaned up to press his lips to Bellamy’s. He didn’t count on Bellamy’s hand sliding up to cup his face, or the warmth of his lips, or just how well they fit together once it finally happened. Apparently Bellamy didn’t either, if the way he sighed into Murphy’s mouth and pulled him closer was any clue. The whole world faded away, and Murphy didn’t know if they’d kissed for a few seconds or a few minutes, but it was perfect- until someone (Murphy’s money was on Raven) let out a loud wolf whistle, and they jumped apart like they were burning. _Shit,_ Murphy thought. _We made it weird._

\----

The worst part was that Bellamy didn’t ignore him, after that. They chatted like the friends that they were- albeit always when other people were with them, never alone- and Bellamy made the same digs at him that he’d always do, told the same dumb story about the time Murphy tried to hit on a girl and she called him “Frog Mouth” that he always told, acted like the kiss didn’t change everything between them. Suddenly it hit Murphy that maybe it didn’t, for Bellamy. Maybe to him that was just a kiss between friends that lasted a little longer than normal, and he’d moved on. But for Murphy, that kiss meant something- and he couldn’t believe that Bellamy didn’t feel the same way. Friends didn’t kiss friends like that.

He spent the whole night looking for an opportunity to talk to Bellamy, but it was no use. If Bellamy wasn’t with Octavia, he was squabbling with Clarke, or teasing Miller, or keeping Jasper and Monty out of trouble, or laughing with Monroe and Harper, or talking to Lincoln, or asking Raven about work - he was never fucking _alone_. He made a valiant effort, but by the time present giving rolled around at the end of the night, Murphy was done. If Bellamy was avoiding him, fine. He just didn’t want things to be weird. Murphy respected that.

They all took their places in a circle on the living room floor for presents, but as he sat down, Murphy remembered something. It had been nagging at him all night, that sensation of forgetting something, and now he finally realised what it was. Miller’s present.

“Uh, guys?” he called over the excited chatter of the group, and they turned to him with accusing looks on their faces. He may have been their friend, true, but they were all well acquainted with Murphy’s shit and had learned to prepare for the worst. “I may have left my person’s gift at home.”

There was a chorus of groans and “God fucking dammit, Murphy”s, until he opened his mouth again.

“Also, I may have drunk too much to drive home so I’m gonna need someone to drive me,” there was yet another collective grumble, this time mixed with various reasons why they couldn’t possibly drive to Murphy’s place and back. Murphy didn’t blame them. If his situation was reversed, he would’ve made the same shitty excuses they did.

“I’ll do it. I haven’t had that much to drink, and I have a car,” rumbled a familiar voice, and they all turned to look at whichever poor soul had volunteered to go out in the freezing cold and drive Murphy around. Bellamy. Fucking _great._ Murphy knew he’d been dying to talk to Bellamy not even twenty minutes ago, but right now he wasn’t too interested in spending 30 minutes in a small car with the guy who’d spent the better part of the night avoiding him.

“Alright then,” Murphy grunted, getting up from his spot next to Raven, “let’s go.”

Bellamy gave a gruff nod and started towards the front door, not bothering to wait for Murphy. God, this was gonna be awkward.

\---

He was right. Holy shit, was it awkward. The drive over was silent save for the tinny Christmas carols playing from the car radio, and as hard as Murphy tried it seemed like Bellamy didn’t want to talk. At _all_. He didn’t even try to broach the kiss subject, just kept to comments about the lack of snow and the delicious food Harper had brought to the party and how creepy that “Baby it’s Cold Outside” song was, but he was lucky to get more than a one word answer out of Bellamy. The most he’d said the entire car ride was “I’ll wait here,” when they got to Murphy’s house.

By the time they were halfway back to the party, Murphy had had enough.

“Bellamy, are you gonna keep avoiding me until we stop being friends?”

“What?” Bellamy lied, but Murphy could see the guilt in his eyes.

“Don’t give me that shit. You haven’t talked to me alone the entire party, and not at all this whole car ride over. I had to listen to Michael Bublé tell me that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas for the _third_ time today, Bellamy. It’s not beginning to look like Christmas! It is Christmas!” Murphy ranted, wishing he hadn’t made the joke as soon as it left his mouth. He needed to be serious, for once.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Was it about the kiss? Because Jesus, if you’re not into me like that just _tell_ me! I mean, I’ve liked you since fucking June last year-” shit _,_ he wasn’t supposed to say that he was NOT supposed to say that “-and I know I’m not- I’m not really good at feelings, okay, but I really, _really_ like you! Like, like-like you! And Jesus Christ it’s embarrassing but you know what? If you don’t feel the same, I’ll get over it! I am capable of moving on! Just don’t fucking end the friendship just because you went all “no homo” on me, okay? I really fucking like you, Bellamy, and not just romantically. You’re one of my best friends and- and I don’t want to lose you. Not over something like this. _Especially_ not over something like this. And if you need some space, let me know. I get that it would be really fucking awkward to kiss your friend if you only saw him as your friend! But shit, don’t you dare ignore me, Bellamy Blake, because I’m really hoping I mean more to you than that.”

The silence in the car lay heavy over them after Murphy’s confession. They’d arrived at the house and the car was stopped and Murphy had just poured his fucking heart out to Bellamy, but he wasn’t saying anything. Bellamy wasn’t saying anything. Murphy slumped back in his seat and turned to open the car door, but Bellamy took a breath that sounded like he was going to say something. Murphy stopped and turned to him, waiting.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Jesus Christ, Murphy couldn’t believe this! Not avoiding him? Bullshit! He slammed open the car door and got out, storming towards the house and into the snow that had started on their way home. He heard Bellamy swear, and footsteps on the path behind him, but he ignored them. Fuck Bellamy, fuck his stupid fucking lips and his stupid fucking hair and his stupid fucking not-avoiding-people bullshit. He got to the front door and stopped abruptly as he realised something fairly damn important. He didn’t have the key, Bellamy did.

Murphy turned to see Bellamy smirking, a few steps behind him. _Fuck you, Bellamy._

“Fuck you, Bellamy,” he called as the other man approached, and stepped to the side to let him through, but Bellamy didn’t start unlocking the door. He stood infuriatingly close to Murphy, that goddamn annoying smirk still on his face. Why did Bellamy Blake smirk so much? It was rude and dumb and who even smirked, anyway? Why was that a thing? What kind of asshole actually _smirked?_

“You didn’t let me finish. I was gonna say, I wasn’t avoiding you because I felt weird about the kiss. I mean, I did, but not in the way you think,” Bellamy explained, looking slightly uncomfortable, his smirk now having dropped to a more nervous half-smile. The Blakes weren’t notorious for being good at feelings.

“How do you know what I think?”

“You literally told me, Murphy. You said, and I quote “don’t fucking end the friendship because you went all “no-homo” on me.” Now, are you gonna let me finish explaining, or what?”

“Hurry the fuck up,” Murphy grumbled. It was cold out, okay?

“Alright, alright. I wasn’t avoiding you because I felt weird. I was avoiding you because the kiss meant something to me too, but I’m not good at feelings and we were in front of our friends and I knew you wanted to talk to me about it, so I ran away and told myself I’d talk to you later. And then, y’know, later became the car and I assumed you’d bring it up but you didn’t and then when you did you were angry and I just didn’t know what to do so now I’m here and I’m rambling.”

He couldn’t believe this was his life. This was like a goddamn rom-com. They had the Christmas setting, the kiss, the miscommunication, everything. And Bellamy Blake actually liked him back. Like, _like-liked_ him, Jonathan Murphy, back. He was about to say something dumb about Bellamy needing to be better at feelings, when said emotionally stunted man cut him off with yet another rom-com cliché.

“Also, we’re under the mistletoe. Just to let you know.”

Murphy looked up, and sure enough, there it was. The plant that had started all this crap in the first place. But now, their friends weren’t there yelling at them to kiss. It was just him and Bellamy and two declarations of like-like (love was a pretty scary word, okay?). His gaze fell back to Bellamy, who was looking at Murphy with an expression he’d always wanted to see but had never dared to wish for. Love. The coloured fairy lights strung up across the Blakes’ front porch reflected in Bellamy’s brown eyes and cast a strange blue hue across everything, and his lips. God, his lips. Murphy had never wanted to kiss him more in his entire life. Suddenly, he realised that that was something he could do. He could kiss Bellamy right now, and he would kiss Murphy back.

Bellamy’s lips quirked up in a grin, and Murphy chuckled.

“As if we need a hint.”

Then, Bellamy’s lips were on his, and Bellamy’s arms were crushing Murphy against him, and Bellamy’s curls were tangled in his hands. They seemed to meld together into one person, one being, hands clutching at arms and waists and never wanting to let go, and- despite the bitter cold biting at his nose and his fingers and the backs of his legs- Murphy had never been warmer in his life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are very much appreciated, and please come talk to me on tumblr- i'm john-murpy. merry belated christmas!


End file.
